Herbal Remedies
by whycantideleteanaccount
Summary: Great. Not only did Tom give Jenny his stupid cold, but Aunt Flow decided to visit her early this month. Is sleep too much to ask for? Pre-Game fic, oneshot.


Disclaimer: I do not own _The Forbidden Game_ or any of its character. I do (probably) own the cold that spawned this fic...

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 _Fuck my life; calling it quits now._ It seemed as though Jenny wouldn't get a moment's worth of rest at this rate. If she laid on either side, one of her nostrils would stuff up, leaving the other to dry out like the Sahara Desert during one of its dry _er_ season. However, if she piled her pillows up and laid down that way, the pounding in her head would only increase, rivaling in strength to that of the most hardcore heavy metal songs. Resting on her stomach was a complete no-no unless she wanted to put even more pressure on her aching lungs.

Her period's early arrival served as the icing of Jenny's out-of-season cold's cake. Between being a virgin and a minor, she was really worried an unplanned pregnancy; thanks, Mother Nature.

Just tired enough to be fed up but not so that she'd be on the verge of sleep, Jenny settled and laid on her back and positioned her legs and head to lean left. She could already feel the congestion shift to the left as well, but Jenny hoped she'd be comfortable enough to fall asleep within moments. Grabbing a fistful of blankets and quilts, she pulled them higher on her body, covering every part except the top portion of her face. Jenny may be cold, but she still needed to breathe.

She blamed Tom for this, of course. Sure, it had been Jenny who offered to come over after school when his parents were away so that he wouldn't be home alone sick. And sure, maybe cuddling on the couch while watching _Heathers_ wasn't her brightest idea—and not just because Jenny didn't like the film—but if Tom hadn't gotten a cold, then Jenny wouldn't have needed to come into contact with it. Right?

When it came to gift-giving, Tom's usually sided towards cute, not annoying and stubborn. _Thanks, Tom._

Her eyes drooped shut; Jenny didn't understand how she managed to put off sleep for five hours even though her body's been craving it all morning and into the afternoon. She yawned for the nth time that hour. Sinking deeper into the welcoming mattress, Jenny went through a mental checklist, making sure that nothing would interrupt her now. She finished her mug of chamomile tea, her pad was freshly changed, the rice bag cradling her lower abs radiated heat, and her hair provided a cool sensation from the shower she took an hour ago. _Finally,_ she thought, smiling and burrowing her head against the worn pillow.

All she could feel was the warmth surrounding her body, Jenny's various quilts and sheets reflecting the fever back to her no longer shivering body like a cotton cocoon. Her breathing slowed, and her throat didn't feel quite as scratchy as before; Jenny thanked her lucky stars that she was able to find honey to put in her tea, even if she didn't remember it being on the grocery list for a few months. She could barely register her own racing thoughts when…

 _Bang. Bang. Bang._

Jenny's eyes shot open, and all the discomfort from before came rushing bad like a river bursting through a newly busted dam. "Jen!" She heard Joey's muffled voice through her bedroom door, the door that currently separated her weak yet determined hands from his strangle-able neck. "Mom says it's time to eat!" Rubbing her throbbing temples as to ease the shock of hearing Joey's prepubescent screeching, Jenny slowly swung her legs over the side of the mattress and stood. Even that simple action made her knees weak and head light. Jenny especially regretted setting the heating pad down so she could stand.

She shuffled towards the door and opened it a smidge. "I'm not hungry," she tried to growl through gritted teeth, but the words caught themselves against her inflamed throat. Jenny _actually_ rasped, "I'm no—HACK!" She brought her elbow to her mouth in a quick motion, covering the sudden coughing fit.

Joey backed away from the door, his face scrunched in a grimace. "Ew, don't cough on me," he whined, walking back down the hallway towards the kitchen, "I'll tell mom you're too sick to eat, okay?" his voice trailed off, his own stomach rumbling after catching the scent of chicken drumsticks and biscuits.

If it weren't for the disruption from her attempt to sleep, Jenny would've been grateful for her regained peace and quiet. Once again, however, her mind and body disagreed as to whether or not she could sleep, leaving her to tangle herself in the mess of blankets and suffer while her mind raced to remind her of all the homework she's have to make up.

 _Maybe I should do something instead._ She didn't fancy the thought of living through another five hours of sniffling and scratchy-throat hell while waiting for the sweet release of sleep. But she couldn't call Tom right then. Not only was it probably suppertime for him, but Jenny's bouts of hacking and literal choking on words might kill whatever mood she was going for, romantic or otherwise. The same applied to whoever else she wanted to chat with.

Besides, he'd only feel bad for spreading on the cold and never let Jenny over when he's sick ever again.

Jenny's eyes were too irritated to read anything other than the sappy crap written in a large font she devoured back in fifth and sixth grade, and her sickness drained whatever energy she could've used to organize her closet, a task she'd been procrastinating for months.

 _Well, I guess I could catch up on my writing._

Before crawling back to the comforting heat of her bed, Jenny picked up a halfheartedly tossed journal from atop her dresser and fumbled around to find a pen or pencil. Strange, there wasn't one near the journal. Not one was near her backpack by the bedroom door, or in her backpack for that matter.

"Are you kidding me?" her quiet voice mumbled, it sounding about an octave higher than normal. Throwing the journal towards her bed, Jenny got on her knees and started to take everything out. Her geometry textbook, notebooks, a satirical apocalypse novel—the summary made her laugh out loud, earning her a few dirty looks from the local sorority girls there studying—her _pencil pouch_. None of her binders hid a writing utensil, and the only two things in the pouch was a pocket calculator and a handful of notes exchanged between her and Michael in their shared Intro to Art class.

"Are you _kidding_ me?" She repeated.

Jenny shot back up, her body swaying from the quick action, and stomped back to bed. Or rather, leaned forward and walked faster than she would've done to prevent from falling face first back to the floor. She laid on her stomach, burying her face in the quilts and sheets. "I just want sleep," Jenny groaned to no one in particular, seeing as she saw herself as the only person in the room. Laying in that position for a few seconds, she lifted her head and brought her arms out in front of her, crossing them and resting her chin on her forearms.

That's when she saw the steam. Billowing out like some kind of witch's brew from a pewter cauldron like in a story, her empty mug seemed to have been refilled. _That's weird; I don't remember getting another cup._

From the angle that she currently looked at it, Jenny couldn't see a string attached to a tea bag or anything. What she did see was a coaster, which she _knows_ wasn't underneath the mug before. Maybe. Her brain felt fuzzy, although whether the sickness, period, or lack of a proper nap could be blamed was anybody's call.

Having her curiosity and confusion peaked, Jenny pushed herself up and lifted her legs onto the mattress, folding them beneath her hips. She leaned over to her beside stand where the mug stood and peered inside. Indeed, it had hot tea. A metallic ball littered with tiny holes in a pattern shaping the curves sat at the bottom; it was a tea strainer.

"What the…" Jenny uttered. _We do_ not _have one of those, I'm sure._ Her mom's keen on staying loyal to favorite and trusted brands, hence why all the tea in the cupboard came in prepackaged straining bags and not loose leaf. Jenny didn't care either way—tea was tea to her—but never in all her years of washing, putting away dishes, and drinking tea on crisp winter nights or long sick days has she seen that strainer before.

Her hand reached out to the mug as if to grab it, but Jenny pulled it back towards herself. _Where did it come from?_ She thought, glancing around the room, listening for any voices out in the hall.

 _Maybe…_ Jenny let out a hoarse laugh. _No_. Shaming herself for even considering such a childish thought, she shook her head. Jenny immediately regretted it, however, as the pounding worsened for a few moments.

"Stupid fever," she said, grabbing the handle and lifting the tea up to her chest, "Stupid cold." With her one unclogged nostril, Jenny detected the scent of peppermint, not chamomile, but shrugged it off as a bout of confusion in her ill state. After all, how could anyone possibly sneak into her room and refill the cup when she'd been in bed practically all day? And who would even _want_ to do something as immature as ninja-ing their way around her line of focus? Jenny laughed at the thought of Joey or Tom tiptoeing around her tissue-ridden floor and filling the cup with the loose leaf blend.

Bringing the mug closer to her face, Jenny took as deep of a breath as her overworked lungs would allow. Yes, that was peppermint she smelled earlier, with a citrusy afterthought. Lemon, perhaps? Surely not ginger. _Definitely not chamomile,_ a voice from the back of her cold-infested mind nagged.

 _I've been out of it all day. I probably refilled it sometime after using the bathroom… or something._

 _But that doesn't explain the strainer…_

 _Does it?_

Jenny brushed away the clouding concerns and questions. The day dragged on and its events meshed together after a few minutes of lying in a feverish state; why bother wondering about things she might not ever think about again when she could be drinking tea? Besides, the aroma from the peppermint seemed to push away her headache. Why look a gift horse in the mouth, after all?

She took a sip and froze. Oh god, was that agave? The sip confirmed that it was in fact some lemon that caused the citrusy smell from earlier. Like a starry peppermint candy from the bottom of her Great Aunt Gracie's purse, the tea was sweet and coated her mouth with flavor, except this had a tangy twist. Jenny couldn't contain the satisfied hum despite her sore throat.

The hand not holding the mug snapped up to cover her mouth. "Holy shit," she said, though her hand muffled most of the noise. When she looked at the mug, all she could see was the silver gleam of the strainer and a yellowish green tint of tea. But _damn,_ Jenny could've sworn just sampled fucking ambrosia or nectar; it had to be some kind of godly dessert because she had never had anything so utterly divine, unearthly. Fuck, Jenny doubted she could process it in a coherent thought even if she had a full week's sleep.

Getting over her mini-shock-slash-transcendence-to-heaven moment, she moved her hand away and gulped down half of the mug, careful as to not let it spill. As amazing as it smelled, Jenny didn't want to change her sheets just yet; after she recovered, sure, but it was a waste of time then when cold germs still clung to her and weaseled past her immune system. Plus, even allowing one drop to fall would be an insult.

Her throat felt as though it had received a slick coating, easing the pain of inflammation and overall scratchiness. Whatever sweetener was used not only soothed her throat, but it integrated with the pleasant stinging aroma to relieve some of the swelling and aridness of her sinuses. The tea even seemed to spring youthful energy back into her tired limbs.

She took another swing, polishing off the drink faster than the chamomile by a considerable amount of time. Letting out an unknown withheld sigh, Jenny brought down the mug, hearing the metal ball clank against the porcelain like one of the wind-chimes Summer's parents had scattered all over their property. "Holy shit," Jenny said again since all other words floated out of her mental grasp just then. That was _fucking good._ So good that Jenny almost felt bad for finishing so quickly.

Setting the once again empty mug on the coaster—which she still didn't remember when or how it got there—Jenny glanced to her right, seeing her pile of pillows. Before, the cold and cramps made the prospect of sleep outside of her reach, but now that most of her symptoms were lessened… Besides, she could always write tomorrow.

Swinging herself into fetal position, Jenny clambered underneath the blankets, reconstructing her cocoon of warmth. Grabbing the rice pack and repositioning it, Jenny fidgeted about, finding the warm spot she made before Joey decided he wanted to tempt fate and his sister. Her head hit the pillows, and it was like the light switch in her head flipped off. Within minutes, her breathing, no longer ragged, steadied, and became soft snoring after about half an hour.

And at that, the gift-bearer smiled in the corner of Jenny's bedroom untouched by light from either the window or the crack in the door. He was glad his tea blend served its purpose without a single issue. With any luck, his Jenny'd be better by the day after tomorrow. He never did like to see her stress over missed schoolwork…

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A/N: In case you couldn't tell, this is a pre-Game fic; I do have a soft spot for those it seems. It was only a matter of time before I wrote my own. When writing this, I pictured Jenny and them to be sophomores or late freshman since she had a geometry textbook in her bag.

Until next time!

-TLP


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